


Mettle of Metal

by afflatussolace



Series: where you go fate will surely follow [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Action, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Fights, Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward, Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward Spoilers, Gen, Lalafell Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Sparring, in which raubahn underestimates the wol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27129199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afflatussolace/pseuds/afflatussolace
Summary: On the day the bull butt heads with the lamb, who was the true victor?Reuploaded from myblog. For the ffxivwrite2020 event held on tumblr.
Relationships: Raubahn Aldynn & Warrior of Light
Series: where you go fate will surely follow [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1971088
Kudos: 2





	Mettle of Metal

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #04 - Clinch  
>  _"to confirm the winning or achievement of"_

  
  


“I’ve always wanted to test my mettle against yours, Warrior of Light. I can’t say this situation displeases me at all.”

It does me. 

Illya has never been one to thrive off conflict or needless confrontations. Quite strange, most definitely, considering her fame as one who almost single handedly tore a hole right through the castrum’s stronghold. A test of strength against a friend, above all else, was something she absolutely abhorred. 

Not that she ever has a say in the matter.. she was, after all, always a slave to the whims and wants of others. 

The representative of Ishgard stood stock still in the midst of the freezing cold, with bed of hair tied into innocent little braids camouflaged into a sea of white around her. And yet in spite of the foreign colors she wore, Raubahn was all too familiar with her visage. 

A pair of violet jewels, spectacular in their luster, though holding just a tiny glint of danger within them. He’s seen that look in her eyes plenty, and yet it’s the first the threat of her soul piercing gaze has ever been directed at him. And in her hand, a rod made of metal and amethyst, name amply fitting for the diamond in the rough, the hero that held it - for the stardust that was their very own champion of Eorzea. 

Not now, however.. Raubahn had to remind himself, as he pushed the visor of his helmet down and raised his sword. In this very moment, on this very battlefield, she was his enemy, and the enemy of the alliance. And just as he’d sworn upon the sultana’s bedside, with tears that’d nearly spilled so uncharacteristic of his reputation, he would not fail to strike down any who would consider themselves enemies to her - friend or not. 

To his surprise, his foe had struck first, blasting the center of where he’d just been standing not less than a second ago with an unforgiving strike of lightning. The general of flames had dodged, just barely, and felt the full sting of electricity prick at his skin and cause his hair to stand.. and he hadn’t even been hit by her attack at all.

The mage waits not for him to recover, before she detonates a ball of fire upon his person that sends the bull flying across their arena.

He nearly rolls into the ring of flames he’d lit, and the man could do nothing but smile devilishly beneath his helm.

“You’re not the only one who can wield the power of flames. Behold!” 

The bull of Ala Mhigo was quick to pick himself up, and with a raise of his sword he conjured up his own raging flames, an inferno that burned hotter and brighter than the feeble little puff his foe had thrown at him. For his wrath and determination too towered over his foe - the girl he knew to be too softhearted for her own good. 

Illya was kind and gentle, almost too much so.. He’d once wondered of how a lamb could carry the flames of Eorzea as she does, rise to such fame and strength that not even the strongest of the imperials, the Legatus holding the title of the Black Wolf, could hope to match against her might. And though the general has long learned to not belittle the girl for her inconspicuousness, he has always wondered what the secret behind her strength was - what set Illya apart from himself?

She was the tender to his hardy, the white to his black, the gentle moonlight that would never meet his blazing sun. If he was a warrior, forged by the battles that has painted his entire body with enough scars to map the world, then she was a flower that had bloomed upon that very battlefield he fought on.

But flowers who could not accept its need for their own sustenance, a flower who refused to grow thorns.. will not survive for long in a war torn environment. If nothing else, he hopes her defeat will teach her that.

The flame general’s attack causes the girl to step back and stumble, the first Aymeric had seen her done in a while, and watches helplessly as Raubahn charges the girl with his sword swung to his side.

It was all she could do but to physically block his blade with her rod, grimacing as she barely avoids the sharp end of his sword from grazing her head before sprinting away from the man.

“Do you plan on running forever, warrior?! Your weapon is nothing more than a mere stick next to mine!”

Any distance she’d hoped to draw between them was always effortlessly closed, and any time she’d planned on buying to cast her spells to counter his attack was whittled away bit by bit, as was her strength. 

Raubahn was as observant of his enemies as he was strong, he surely must have noticed the lack of resistance as he struck the shaft of her rod. As was necessary for the conjuring of black magic, all of her magic was being imbued into her longstaff, but not herself. 

The wall of flames general Aldynn had summoned was not to damage her, great as her defense against magical damage as she was. It was to throw her off balance so that he might close the gap between them.

“I’ll finish this!”

The bull of Ala Mhigo charges, sword raised high above his head that he swings down towards the lamb, who helplessly raises up her rod. 

Foolish girl, doing that with her weakness will only cause her to crash down beneath his feet.

Metal against metal, steel against steel. The smell of ash fills his nostrils, and all he could hear was the deafening screech of his sword against…

her sword?

“What?”

Stardust has faded. The moon has sunk beneath the horizon, leaving naught but darkness. And from beyond the horizon, a shadow rose. 

How many summers has it last been since he’d had his sword pushed aside so effortlessly like this? He’d been reminded of his bouts with Ilberd, of his time as a calf who could barely even tell a swords’ hilt from its pommel. 

The feeling of fighting a foe he’d dreaded to clash blades with, a foe he knew to be stronger than himself in every way.

It would seem.. he’s underestimated the Warrior of Light again.

“I never knew.. you knew how to wield a great sword.” 

What a sight it was, to see the Lalafellin he’d always known for her dainty little staffs and canes to be carrying a jet black sword that was larger than herself, and to see the lavender glint in her eyes glow an almost ominous red. Illya’s stance was nothing like before, nothing like the stumbling, flustered lamb he’d thought her to be.

“If…If it’s a close fight you want..” Illya’s voice was the only reminder he had of who she was - of the delicate flower he’d watched bloom in his midst. He had just not taken notice of the thorns beneath her roots until it was too late. 

“Don’t blame me… You were the one who forced my hand.”

She didn’t want for it to come to this.. wished with all her might that she needn’t use him. But the unforgiving crystal in her breast pocket whispered to her, reminded her of the disappointment she’d cause her allies were she to fall without even giving it her all. 

And in that, the secret behind the Warrior of Light’s strength.. the crippling fear of failure, of the demon that laid dormant inside her. 

A victory clinched, a battle that was hardly even a contest. On that day, the bull had been brought down to his knees, and he stared up at the shadow with fear and pride in his eyes.


End file.
